


Love Is A Pretty Good Distraction

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (again i cant write smut but i can heavily reference it), Alternate Universe - High School, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Sherlock is bad at Physics, Tutor John, and all Sherlock can remember is stuff about John, because John's in his class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5923852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's not the best at Physics, although hell would freeze over before he would admit as such. And by the (very good) looks of his new tutor, it's probably going to stay that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is A Pretty Good Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get the idea out of my head of Sherlock struggling with schoolwork because John is so pretty he's distracting him and John just has enough of his whinging and shuts him up in the classic fanfiction way of straight (haha) up kissing, and my wonderful friend Emily sent me the link to JUST DO IT so I took the hint and about a week and a half later this got spewed out. Please imagine Martin and Ben from the unaired pilot as Sherlock and John here because they are so accurately Teen!lock. Completely un-beta'd so please forgive any mistakes and there are some italics definitely missing but I'll get round to it.

Sherlock couldn't help but sigh as he set his bag on the table and sat down at his seat in his horribly familiar Physics classroom. It wasn't that he didn't understand the lessons, it was that his head was just so full of stuff from other lessons, plus all the things he learned in his spare time, like how to play the violin, how to deduce people, the exact shade of John Watson's eyes, the - woops.  
Sherlock had told himself, when he walked into class the first day of the year, and vaguely noticed a head of dirty blond off to the side, only to have the blond sit right next to him when the teacher called for them to sit down, not to take any notice of him other than learning his name. He had sternly reminded himself of this when John had demanded eye contact with his hand stuck out and a warm smile, and Sherlock had found out that it was, in fact, possible to drown whilst staying perfectly dry. He had repeated it like a mantra as he felt his heart skip a beat every time he knew his next lesson was physics, and every time their shoulders brushed. He had held onto it like a lifeline as he took his first Physics test, and found he could remember nothing but the equation of John's smirk and the frequency of his voice. And now here he was, laughing at the thought of John Watson remaining something as unobtrusive into Sherlock's little world as a mere name.  
The meddler in question sat down next to him, with a slightly breathless "Hey, Sherlock," and Sherlock steeled himself against the barrage of thoughts that should stay out of his head in a classroom - no, scratch that, in any place. He mumbled a greeting and settled down for another hour of torture and trying to finally force himself to pay attention...  
To no effect whatsoever. Another lesson spent entirely on noticing every miniscule detail about John, without taking in a word of this damned subject. Sherlock was ready to leave immediately to retreat to his corner of the common room for the lunch hour when he was interrupted by his teacher.  
"Sherlock, John, stay here a second." He sharply turned at the mention of John's name, wondering what on earth he had to do with anything. John was definitely not the type to get into trouble.  
"Sherlock, as you know, you have been doing quite poorly in Physics lately," the teacher started, fixing him with a hard stare, "and I spoke to John yesterday and he has kindly volunteered to tutor you until you get better." Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but his teacher held up her hand to interrupt him again. "Now, I know you're not keen on partners, but I insist on you doing this, otherwise, I will have to fail you." Sherlock shut his mouth suddenly. The though of spending more time with John was enticing, but being tutored by John Watson for Physics was the most ridiculous oxymoron he'd ever heard of. He stole a glance at John before nodding. He might as well give it a shot, he thought, and he couldn't bear his teacher getting on his back about it.  
She smiled, and looked expectantly between them.  
"How's tomorrow after school sound? We have Physics last, so you can come straight with me," John finally piped up. Sherlock looked up at him to see a small smile. He nodded again, mumbled an "I'll meet you there and sped out of the classroom as quickly as possible.

\---

The next day passed by both agonisingly slow and terrifyingly fast, and finally yet suddenly Sherlock was waiting for John to finish packing up at the end of the day, and he could barely stop himself from fidgeting. It would be interesting in anyone else, he mused; observing someone slowly fall in love would be a highly informative experience, but in himself, he just wished that he didn't like it so much. He wished that he wanted it to end.  
But he didn't.  
So he offered a half-smile-half-grimace and got in return a grin that definitely didn't make his heart stutter, and steeled himself for the evening.  
It was a short walk from school to John's house, and John filled the walk with mindless chatter about his home and family. By the time they arrived at John's door, Sherlock had just about brought his heart rate down. It sped right back up again when John mentioned that his parents were out tonight and his sister was over at her friend's house, meaning Sherlock would be alone. With Watson. In John's house. With probably as much space as John was leaving between them now, i.e. not near enough - John's shoulder kept almost brushing up against his.  
Sherlock would probably faint from hyperventilation if John even smiled at him from that close. Or go down with his nose streaming, anime-style.  
He kept himself in check as he entered John's house and looked around. Sofa regularly used, by 2 people, most likely the parents, which means John would spend most of his time in room and his sister...his sister could either do the same or be out most of the time, the latter more likely (the armchair next to the sofa had dents in the left arm, so it was mostly used by John, as he had a habit of leaning on his left arm whilst sitting) meaning there was most likely tension between her and the parents. But of course, unlike his usual, he didn't dare say any of this out loud. The reactions he'd already had to his deducing of people was a clear indication that it was another of his habits that needed to stay in the Not-Near-John box (he'd tried several times force a deranged heart beat and breathing rate in there, to no avail. He counted finally slamming the lid on blushing one his best accomplishments).  
"It's not much," John started to say, but Sherlock smiled at him and shook his head.  
"It's great." It certainly had a nicer atmosphere than his own home; this one had clear signs of actually being lived in.  
"Um, thanks. Here, put your coat up on here, and drop you bag on shoes off here," John gestured around as he talked. Sherlock obeyed, looping his scarf around the coat hanger as well.  
"So..." John started, rocking on his heels.  
"Do you want to come up to my bedroom?"  
Sherlock snapped his head round at the question.  
"What?" he asked sharply, immediately regretting it. Oh, well done, idiot, he thought, it's called not being obvious and you might want to give it a try sometime.  
John drew his brows together, looking - definitely not adorably - confused. Then he just had to go do that. That thing that made Sherlock's heart stop for a lot longer than was healthy. And he knew exactly how it goes.  
First, John looks down. Then, he scoffs, and the side of his mouth pulls up into a half-smirk. He then looks up again as he shakes his head slightly. The end depends on what he does when he makes eye contact again. If he thinks you've said something bad, he'll realise you're not joking and his smile will drop and you're in for a telling off. If he likes what you've said, his smile will grow and he'll start laughing. The whole thing took less than 10 seconds, but for Sherlock it lasted centuries.  
He can't deny his breath of relief as John laughed, albeit nervously, and looked down.  
"I'll just grab my stuff and we can work in the kitchen, then." John started towards the stairs, but Sherlock quickly followed.  
"It's alright, John. We'll do it up there," he muttered, just about loud enough for John to hear. Sherlock turned the corner at the top of the stairs and trailed after John to his bedroom. Once in there, John gestured for Sherlock to sit on his bed before rooting around on his desk (no, Sherlock was definitely not checking out John's arse as he did so) and pulling out a folder marked "Physics"

\---

It took all of half an hour for Sherlock to break.  
"Agh!" Sherlock exclaimed finally.  
"What?" John asked, startled.  
"I can't do it, John," he admitted, hanging his head.  
"Don't worry, Sherlock, you're doing great so far." John's patronising tone only served to anger him furthur.  
"It's not that! Nothing of this will stick in my head after today, I swear it." John scoffed and shook his head.  
"What is it about Physics, then, Sherlock? You can rattle off facts just fine about any other lesson."  
Sherlock sighed, defeated.  
"You." John was taken aback.  
"Me? Oh, well. Um. We can find you a new tutor, if you want, I-" John was cut off by Sherlock shaking his head.  
"It's not that," he said shortly.  
"Then what?" John's tone was noticeably lower than before, and more careful.  
"You're just so...distracting," Sherlock started, and now he thought he might as well go the whole way and say it all and then John will leave and he won't have to put up with this torture for any longer.  
"How can I even think about remembering things from Physics when everything from those lessons is things about you? The exact curvature of your smile, or how many shades of blue there are in your eyes, or how you-"  
And suddenly Sherlock was cut off by a hand grabbing the side of his face and turning up until warm lips covered his own, muffling his speech. It took him a second to register that John Watson was actually kissing him, and then in no time at all he heard the clatter of his pen and the thump of his books on the floor as his hands moved up to hold John's face and pull him closer as John's hand moved to the back of his head and another settled on his waist.  
John broke away grinning, leaving them both panting lightly. He pushed his own books away and stood up, making Sherlock break his hold around his neck and reach for the collar of his shirt as he moved around so he was in front of Sherlock.  
"John, wait, I-I need to process this, to remember it, I need to-" Sherlock rambled, as John moved forward and he couldn't help but lace his hands around his neck again, until John laughed out a "Shut up, Sherlock" and climbed up, hitching his knees either side of Sherlock's hips and leaning forward until he fell backwards with a soft oomph onto the bed, his hair fanning out behind his head. John brought his wrists from around his neck to pin them down either side of his head, before bringing his lips down onto Sherlock's again.  
They kissed for a long while more, breaths mingling, teeth dragging against lips and tongues exploring every inch. Sherlock broke John's hold on his wrists and ran his hands up and down John's back, as John leaned onto his forearms, pushing his chest closer to Sherlock's until they could feel each others heartbeats. John pulled away again, only to use his hand now buried in Sherlock's curls to push his head to the side and start kissing a trail down his jaw. Sherlock took the opportunity to speak.  
"Did you tell me to shut up?" he asked, slightly high-pitched. John hummed an affirmative into the crook of his neck in the middle of creating a hickey Sherlock was sure would last for days. A shocked little "Oh!" left him before he replied.  
"Ok," was all he could manage, and his voice definitely did not break as John leaned to the side and trailed his other hand down his chest and round his back to grip Sherlock's arse possessively.  
John leaned back and sat up, pinning Sherlock's hips down underneath him as he started undoing the buttons on his shirt.  
"John," Sherlock gasped, "John, we shouldn't, we - the work, John..." Sherlock trailed off as John sighed exasperatedly.  
"Sherlock, I like you. Do you like me?" Sherlock nodded feverously.  
"Would you like to kiss me?" Sherlock's eyes blew wide. He stumbled over his words.  
"I, well, I- I mean, yes but not in so coarse a -"  
"Now?" Sherlock slammed his mouth shut and simply stared at John. John raised an eyebrow straight back  
"Yes," he finally answered, "but, uh, the need outweighs the want and we need to-" Sherlock broke himself off this time, barely stifling a moan as John adjusted himself so his arse was right over Sherlock's shamefully growing arousal.  
"Sherlock Holmes, if you do not kiss me right now then I will need to ban you from my house and never speak to you again."  
The room was silent. John fixed Sherlock with a hard stare and gripped his shirt with a force that was definitely not turning him on, no, not at all, and John's smirk was definitely not because he could feel it and he was proud, the little git.  
After a tense few seconds, John opened his mouth to say something else, but it was Sherlock's turn to cut him off as he reached up, grabbed John's collar and pulled him down into a bruising kiss.  
John fell against him, grinning devilishly.  
Sherlock loved it.  
Sherlock loved him.

\---

Sherlock didn't fail Physics in the end. He let himself forget things about John because, well...  
He could always remind himself.


End file.
